


Serizawa Has Two Hands and They Are Sweaty

by crowtaka, Lulatic



Category: Shrek (Movies), モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100
Genre: Angst, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious, Pining, Polyamory, Unrequited Love, oR iS iT? ? ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowtaka/pseuds/crowtaka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulatic/pseuds/Lulatic
Summary: Reigen coughed into his hand. "And isn't it weird? We're friends, but you haven't even ever visited my house yet?” He awkwardly laughed. “Isn't it weird? You haven’t seen. The domain. The habitat. The place. Where I reside? Which I live in - I'm making this weird. Anyway this is my nice way of asking if you'd like to come over for dinner sometime."Serizawa was still. He was going through all stages of organ failure. Every part. His heart had stopped moving, his lungs had stopped taking in, taking out air, his pulse was stone frozen. Finally, after a moment, he nodded."Sure.”





	Serizawa Has Two Hands and They Are Sweaty

**Author's Note:**

> In the span of two days and two nights, Lulatic and I have composed this romance story of the century. Better than Titanic. Better than Twilight. Better than any other romance movie that starts with a T. This is not only a love story between these 3 pivotal characters, it is also, as I’d like to consider it, a love story between two fandoms. We all, just like Serizawa, have two hands for these fandoms, and they are so, so, incredibly sweaty.
> 
> Credit to Fiore for helping out with the Shrek translation! Follow them on @hatoributch for Tumblr. NOW.

Serizawa didn’t know why his hands were so sweaty when Reigen asked him if he could stay and chat for a minute after work.

Actually, he was a liar. He did know. Months and months of crushing, subtle signals, “friendly one-on-one meetups after work” that seemed like dates, which he tried asking Reigen if they WERE dates, who then gave him a one hour lecture on the concept of “platonic dates” and “bros being bros” and “just because I took you out to this extremely fancy, new restaurant, known as one of the hottest date spots in all of Japan, and it’s Valentine’s day, and I also paid for everything including the tab, and also a whole Mariachi band came over to our table performing a cover of “Careless Whisper” during dessert, doesn’t mean that I had romantic intentions when I drove you out here in a rented limo wearing a three-piece suit”. A lot of pining and wondering and hoping and kissing the massive poster of Reigen on the wall the few times he was in the office alone. He didn’t say that. Please forget that you heard that.

In short, it had been a sort of personal hell for him. 

This all was sadly and yet gratefully, so gratefully aided by the fact that his boss exuded sex. Fantasies of confessions over candlelit dinners, under the stars, or during the Youtube compilations of Old Spice commercials they’d surely watch together, none of it compared to when it would happen.

Presumably. Okay, maybe when Reigen said he wanted to talk to him about something after the last exorcism of the day, his imagination had ran wild with what it could be about. Even though it was nothing like the wistful dreams of Reigen shirtless, much more muscular, and on a horse, it still felt nerve wracking. 

  
. . . This was a good time to elaborate that Serizawa absolutely fell hard for anyone who simply reminded him of the Old Spice man, his ultimate ideal of a boyfriend, husband, and lover. It was to a point that back when he was in Claw, he was crushing so hard on Shibata because he had muscles that were so swole and so buff and so choice. Just like the Old Spice man. Sometimes, late at night, thinking back on the past, he regretted. He regretted letting such a perfect catch get away. 

Reigen had been the exception to his Old Spice man type obsession. Well, not really. He had the same sort of sexy, charismatic energy. The ambition. The drive. The compassion. His heart and brain were both so fucking big, just like the Old Spice man. But he was wimpy and weak as the pack of ramen noodles Serizawa boiled every morning for breakfast. You could fling him around like a limp ragdoll, and Serizawa had even seen many people do so. So close to perfection. Yet so far. Nobody’s really perfect, he guessed. Still.

. . . Anyway.

"You know, we've known each other for a long time now," said Reigen, sitting at his desk, after everyone else in the office had left. Leaving just the two of them there. Alone.

"Yeah," said Serizawa, sitting on the couch. He internally thought to himself, _Is this it? Finally? After weeks and weeks of hopeful signs and gestures? Months and months of no homos and copouts? Is it finally happening?_

Reigen continued.

"I . . . I even consider us friends at this point."

Serizawa nodded, trying not to look at him in the eye, silently adding in his head, _Maybe even more. Please. Please let it be more._ **_Please_ ** _say yes homo ;_;_

Reigen coughed into his hand. "And isn't it weird? We're friends, but you haven't even ever visited my house yet?” He awkwardly laughed. “Isn't it weird? You haven’t seen. The domain. The habitat. The place. Where I reside? Which I live in - I'm making this weird. Anyway this is my nice way of asking if you'd like to come over for dinner sometime."

Serizawa was still. He was going through all stages of organ failure. Every part. His heart had stopped moving, his lungs had stopped taking in, taking out air, his pulse was stone frozen. Finally, after a moment, he nodded.

"Sure," he said, heart pounding. He doesn’t know how it’s still pounding after his heart just fucking stopped but whatever. What the fuck is a continuity? We only have cliches in this household. Bitch I’ll kill you.

 _Is this . . . flirting? This is flirting . . . right?_ , he thought. _You don't just invite people over to dinner like that . . . platonically, right? Or do you?_ He didn't know. It had only been a few years since those dark, dark memories, still lingering in the back of his mind. It didn't matter. Reigen had already started to arrange a date and time while he was disassociating inside his head. Serizawa came back to attention, just in time to know that it was going to be next week. He had never been more ready and not-ready in his life.

* * *

Serizawa was clutching flowers in his hand. It was a bold move, he thought. But sometimes being bold pays off. Sometimes you need a bit of courage to move past that gay chicken and into the Official Gay Zone. Or whatever. His metaphors weren't his top priority right now. He gulped, checked that it was the right apartment number one more time, and knocked on Reigen's door.

"Who teh fack is this?" said a green, burly ogre in a Scottish accent, opening the door.

Serizawa was. He wasn’t even shocked. He had just stopped. Working. He thought so, at the very least. He had to be hallucinating.

"Oh, Shrek! That's Serizawa. You know, from work? I said he'd be coming over today for dinner," yelled Reigen, running to the door to meet him. He was wearing an apron which made him look like he had a Steve Minecraft body. The very picture of domesticity. It was almost enough to bring Serizawa back to a normal state. Almost. "Sorry, I haven't really introduced you to my husband, have I?"

Serizawa slowly shook his head no. 

"Anyway,” Reigen smiled adoringly at the green ogre. “This is Shrek. We've been married for about three years now."

"Three . . . three years." said Serizawa.

"Aye," said Shrek, smacking Reigen’s fat juicy ass.

"HEY!" said Reigen, while Serizawa started crying internally. “NOT NOW SHREKY SERI AND I ARE HAVING A MOMENT.”

"Sorry," said Shrek, but in a tone that implied he didn’t really mean it. He slouched his way back in the house. (Serizawa was reminded of a phrase he had heard once: “Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go.”) Reigen smiled apologetically. Then he saw the flowers.

"Oh! Um. You didn't have to bring flowers?" he said.

"Uh, they were, uh, you know, just to touch up the house, uh, a little for you and your husband," said Serizawa, frantically rolling a 1d20 for Persuasion and landing a solid 0.

"That's so sweet!" said Reigen, taking them. Serizawa let him, surprised that worked, then surprised he was still feeling emotions after all this.

"Uh . . . are you gonna come inside now?" asked Reigen. Serizawa nodded, and stepped inside the house. It was gonna be one hell of a night.

* * *

Reigen awkwardly laughed. “You’re a little early, and I’m not done with dinner yet, so just make yourself at home.” Reigen left Serizawa to himself, feeling like a fish out of water. His hands were empty of flowers and had been replaced with a nervous, clammy sweat. 

“Goh end meke yehself combferteble,” said Shrek, patting down the spot on the couch beside him. Despite Serizawa’s lightheadedness, he managed to sit down beside him. His presence was strong, tangible beside Serizawa. The smell of onions and the towering height of him made Serizawa realize he’d never had a chance with Reigen.

“So, uh . . .” said Serizawa, thanking the universe for letting him function like a normal adult so he could form words and have conversations while he was definitely not recovering from having his heart broken, and by someone who was on par with Reigen in attractiveness, nonetheless. He’d never thought it possible, yet the cumulative culo sexiness of the happy couple was unlike anything he’d ever seen. “What do you do for a living?”

Shrek grunted.

“Eim a security gard. Loike Dimple.” 

“L-like who?” asked Serizawa, not sure if he heard right.

“Loike Dimple,” Shrek said, belching as he said the words, even though he hadn’t drunk anything the whole time Serizawa was with him. A cruel reminder of how out of his league Reigen was, to marry someone like him. “Dat’s how weh met. Meh and Arataka.”

“Oh . . .” said Serizawa. “Is that . . . so . . .”

“Weh were aout on dooty teh ferst nighet. He looeks aet me. ‘Hey? Aern’t yeh the oene thaet deid this pose? Aend he squats en teh floor weth hes culo out liek I did. ‘You maey touch it. Oence. Ain’t yeh the bloke who saed thaet? An’ I teld him. ‘Yeh. Thaet’s me.’”

Serizawa nodded, listening, but not really. Shrek’s accent was very sexy. He loved the sound of the Scottish drawl on his deep, manly, Old Spice-like voice. He would, he swore culo, even listen to some ASMR in that voice, drowsing off to sleep as he dreamed fantasy dreams of the Old Spice body wash man taking him out on evening walks by the beach on their honeymoon. He could practically smell the _musk_ of the Old Spice body wash. 

“So ‘e tells meh, ‘ey, oi moight kno a blowke ye moight be interested en.’ End oi ask im, ‘ooh?’ and e tells meh, ‘Arataka Reigen. Also. Thes eesn’t actually meh reaol boday. Oim jist possessin’ this security gard ‘ere. Oim a spiret. And oi sorta wek under im. Reigen, thaet is.’ Oi shrug. ‘Sore wot? Wot’s so interestin’ about thes Reigen?’ End e tells meh, ‘Teh culo, Shrek. Teh culo.”

“The . . . the culo?” asked Serizawa. Shrek’s grin spread across his face like cracking pavement. His breath as he leaned into Serizawa’s personal bubble was thick with the smell of mud, rotten garlic, and something like white people spices. Salt and pepper? “The _culo,_ ” he gasped out the words, the words damp with his breath. Serizawa could feel it on his face like vapor.

Serizawa’s face flushed. He nodded. He might have not known what the word meant, but suddenly he _knew_ what Shrek meant. He sweat buckets under Shrek’s heavy gaze, looking anywhere but at him, afraid he’d get lost in the bottomless, swampy water **_orbs_ ** of his eyes. 

Serizawa was going to exorcise that mustyass fart cloud the next time he saw him. “I . . . didn’t think Dimple would play matchmaker.”

“Yeh,” said Shrek. He then put an arm around Serizawa’s shoulder. The tight cords of his strong muscles against Serizawa, knowing that those arms got to hold Reigen close at night . . . Serizawa started to unconsciously sink into the half-embrace, so tired after all the emotional chaos he had gone through in the past 10 minutes . . .

“Dinner’s ready!” shouted Reigen from the kitchen, and Serizawa jumped, sitting up and letting Shrek’s arm fall. He pounced up and away from Shrek’s warm, comforting hold as if his thick green arm had erupted into flames. He had just been snatting on Shrek! And without even remembering he was married to Reigen! He was so ashamed. Now he might as well be a homewrecker, with how he’s been thinking of Reigen and acting with Shrek. Homewrecking . . . . 2!

Ashamed of his own thoughts, his own feelings, Serizawa burst to his feet. “O-okay!” he squealed out, marching out of the room. The feeling of eyes on his back felt like mud sliding down his skin.

Serizawa stumbled into the kitchen. The room of consumption, as he liked to call it. No he didn’t. What the fuck was he thinking? He couldn’t stop replaying that moment on the couch with Shrek in his mind. 

Shrek stomped in after him, and sat next to Reigen at the table, giving him a slobbery, greasy peck on the cheek.

“Thanks for dinner, sugar tits.” Serizawa’s heart squeezed with yearning at his sweet words. _If only I could be saying that to Reigen…_

Then he looked down at the dinner.

“Uh . . .” he poked at it. “Weird . . . casserole? I don’t know? What you’ve got here?” He wasn’t sure what had been dished up. It looked like some white people thing, like tuna casserole, but surely the food Reigen made would be delicious, right?

“Sloogs.”

“What?”

“Slugs,” translated Reigen. “It’s slugs. A Shrekkish delicacy.” 

“Aye. Paesed daown throoh teh shrek faemily fer generatetions,” said Shrek, downing five at once like the majestic being he was. Serizawa eyed the curve of his throat as he swallowed them whole. 

Serizawa almost swore he heard him whisper, “Oi know roemayence babeie ;)”, but he was probably imagining it. With everything running through his head now, the overwhelming emotions and experiences of this day, who knew.

But, looking at the sluggy dish now, there was one thing Serizawa was certain of; Shrek was perfect in every conceivable way. 

Serizawa didn’t know if he could top the feat Shrek just pulled off with these slugs. Did he even want to? Did he even want to top the pure power radiating from the action? His mind came up with more vaguely sexy sounding sentences. He was a motherfucking poet, that’s what he was. 

Suddenly, the lights turned off, and everything was dark.

“Woah!” said Serizawa. “There must have been a power outage.”

All he heard was the clattering of dishes, and some shuffling here and there.

Serizawa nervously chuckled. “Um . . . you guys all right there?”

He heard Reigen whispering in a quick, low tone, “C’mon. No! Not the-Yeah, there. Okay. Did you get the-Good. Okay, so in one, two, three-”

Before Serizawa could comment on the suspicious words he overheard, light burst out of the darkness. He squinted, then gasped at what he saw. 

The light was coming from a bundle of around ten or eleven earwax candles in the middle of the table that had been lit aflame. A foam board cutout of the Old Spice man was leaning on the wall behind Reigen and Shrek. Shrek was holding a lumpy bag in his hands, which he spilled onto the table, revealing that onions had been inside it. The onions rolled over the rose petals that were scattered everywhere. There was also mud. So much mud. The whole floor had basically turned into a mud floor. 

Serizawa nearly swooned from the incredibly romantic display, but the smell of fresh, raw onion being cracked open by Shrek’s hands kept him awake and alert. 

“How . . . how did you get all this mud in here?” asked Serizawa, about to tear up from all the care put into the passionate gesture. Also the onions. 

Shrek grinned.

“Oim an esper, jist loch ye, laddie. Oi’ve got mud manipulation powers.”

As if Shrek couldn’t be more perfect enough. 

“That’s not all!” said Reigen, taking out a suitcase that had been apparently underneath the table the whole time. He opened it gently, showing off the stacks of the five hundred Digimon cards that were placed in its red, velvety interior. 

“Is . . . is that a holo The Miracle 4 card?” Serizawa gasped, seeing its beautiful glint inside the confines.

Reigen didn’t answer his question, but instead put his hand on Serizawa’s. “Careless Whisper” started playing from somewhere within the room. “So. I know I don’t fit your ideal type. You’ve never let me skip those Old Spice ads when we were watching Youtube videos together. I know I can never be like him.”

Serizawa shuddered, hearing such embarrassing secrets about himself being revealed out loud. And not only that, but in front of Reigen’s husband! He grew even more embarrassed, as he realized Reigen was watching those ads with him, while he knew all along. He had been embarrassed the entire time he was here, actually. Embarrassed . . . yet entranced . . .

“But Shrek and I. Together, we can be your ideal type. We can be the Old Spice body wash man. Look at Shrek’s biceps, Serizawa. Look at his pecs. See how they flex.”

Shrek flexed his pecs. Serizawa gasped. The size and shape and volume of his pecs was everything he’d ever envisioned in the ideal man. 

“Just like the Old Spice body wash man . . .” 

“Just like the Old Spice body wash man,” Reigen said, softly smiling.

“. . . B-but!” said Serizawa, pulling his hand back. “F-fusion is just a cheap tactic to make weak potential husbands stronger!”

“So what if it’s cheap?” asked Reigen, while Shrek flexed even harder, slamming one leg on the table to show off his hams. “You’re still getting a husband in the end.”

“Uh . . . um . . .” mumbled Serizawa, trying desperately to think of all the reasons they shouldn’t do this, although it was incredibly hard to focus with the scent of the Old Spice cologne Reigen had just taken out of his back pocket and sprayed himself with. The scent overlayed his natural aroma of MobDonald’s french fry grease perfectly. 

“But . . . you both have each other!” exclaimed Serizawa. “You two are both so perfect, in so many ways . . . why would you want me?” 

Shrek sighed, standing up on his chair, balancing himself so he could start twerking his culo like Ricardo. The way he could make his flat ass look to be so much more than it was, was captivating to Serizawa. 

“Yeh really don’t seh it, do yeh?” Shrek said with a flex and a two-eyed wink. 

“Serizawa,” Reigen said, in a deathly serious voice, leaning over and grasping his hand. Serizawa was sweating so hard that Reigen had a hard time holding on, the sweat making his hold as slippery as a freshly Vaseline oiled and greased Shimazaki in a sansmaki fic. He finally wrapped both his hands in some napkins to his side, and held onto Serizawa’s hand with them. Serizawa was even more flustered by the show of ingenuity and utility, both good things to look for in a potential husband. He stared at him, eyes focused, as if he wanted Seri to remember what he was going to say next. 

“Serizawa . . . no, _Katsuya_ . . . you. Are. So. Fucking. Sexy. You are literally the sexiest man to ever walk on this earth. It makes sense that the Old Spice body wash man is your type, because he is literally the only person in the entire world who could match the level of sexiness you have. When I first met you, I was literally speechless because of how much unbelievably sexy energy you were giving off. Your sexy energy, Serizawa? It’s over 9,000. I thought Shrek and I were the sexiest people on Earth, with our combined sexiness of 1,000. But your sexy power is so incredibly out of this world, that when I first saw you with my own eyes, I knew there wasn’t a chance. So I tried to fool myself. To pretend I didn’t love you. To pretend I didn’t want you. To pretend I didn’t _need you._ All those fake dates . . . ( _So they WERE fake dates,_ thought Serizawa, victoriously.) It got to the point where Shrek asked me when we were cuddling one night in the imported swamp we have in the bedroom what was wrong. So I explained. And we came up with this dinner date. So we could proposition you.” 

Reigen took out sixty-nine Mobdonald’s coupons and laid them out on the table. Shrek crunched on an onion in his mouth. Every move the two were performing was calculated to make their chances of success as high as possible for this proposition. And it was working. Serizawa had never felt more wooed in his life. 

“Enough fucking around,” said Reigen, his mud **_orbs_ **intense on Serizawa’s. He whipped at the film of sweat building on his forehead with the back of his hand. The dyed-blondette flicked his hair back, a sparkle flung into the air with the motion. “And let’s get to fucking around.”

“Aie,” Shrek’s gruff voice beckoned Serizawa, his rank breath reaching across the table, lulling him. “Wot d’yeh saiy?” 

Serizawa looked between the two of them. His eyes traced over the scattered onions and rose petals across the table, the puddles and pools of grease and mud all around them. He felt the beat of his heart, a feeling of arteries clogged with love. 

Why couldn’t he join them? Here he was, having found himself lusting over the both of them in the time he’d met Shrek. Why couldn’t he bask in their culo love, their warmth, and enjoy it? Why couldn’t he let himself indulge in the fantasies of those thick green arms while Reigen is like. There somewhere. Cheering in the back. Supporting his two beefy buff mancake boyfriends? Why not wake up to the aroma of donkey ass sizzling on the frying pan in the morning?

They had thrown out a line for him. A hook and sinker, all with the hope of reeling in Serizawa, this meaty manfish, into their lives. How could he deny that?

 _Why shouldn’t I sink into the muddy swamp of their love?_ Serizawa questioned himself. _Why would I say no?_

He wouldn’t. 

Suddenly he felt an incredible surge of psychic energy flow through him. Reigen and Shrek both stepped back, alarmed. The table shook. The onions all rolled off the table. The rose petals started being whooshed up into the air, and swirled around Serizawa, like bugs around shit which is a very cool analogy fuck you crow. Torrents of mud streamed through the air, cascading around the Old Spice man’s cardboard cut out. The mud shaped into a bride’s dress on it or some shit. 

Serizawa couldn’t fully grasp what the fuck was going on. His heart backed up with love. Something strong and indescribable clouded his vision. Maybe the onions. Either way, he found himself ready to burst with **_courage_ **. 

“What the hell is going on,” said Reigen, closing the suitcase of Digimon cards and tucking it into his back pocket for safekeeping. 

“Serizawa . . . ah see. He’s mair powerful than ah ever thoot he was.”

“What?” asked Reigen, clearing away other shit in the room so it wouldn’t be destroyed by Serizawa’s incredible psychic energy. “I’m . . . you know I’m not really a psychic, Shrek. I don’t think I really know what you’re talking about.”

Shrek smirked. 

“Ah. Reit. Weel, in layman’s terms, Serizawa is transformin’ intae his ‘final form’, sae tae spick. Aw th’ coorage ‘at he has in his heart has overwhelmed heem in a massife spike ay energy. Ay coorse, his normal body can’t handle sic’ a drastic spike, but his psychic powers allaw heem tae convert ‘at energy tae transf’rm his current f’rm intae a new body - a body mair powerful than anythin’ yoo’ve ever seen befair. It’s somethin’ us psychics hae bin tryin’ tae wark oan fur years - Dimple, in fact, confided in me ‘at a ‘un o’ teh main reasons fur his hangin’ aroond Mob when they first mit was tae see if he somehaw cood perf’rm thes exact sam process ‘at is happenin’ in front ay us reit noo, in order tae create a new, e’en mair powerful body than he hud in the’ past. But whit I ne’er tauld heem is ‘at he cooldn’t, an’ wood ne’er, be able tae accomplish thes. See, thes type ay transformation comes frae only th’ absolute purity ay th’ heart. Serizawa feels his coorage wi’ aw his bein’. He is purely coorage reit noo. Only throo purity can ye handle the’ absolute tremulous strength ay th’ transformation, an’ only throo purity ye can perf’rm it in th’ first place.”

“So . . .” said Reigen. “Most of that just sounded like pure gibberish but, uh . . . he’s going 100% courage for us?”

“Aye,” said Shrek. 

“. . . I’m going to fucking marry this man if it’s the last thing I do. You, and me, and him. We shall have a summer wedding. It will be beautiful. Everyone will cry. Dimple is invited.”

“Aye,” replied Shrek, smiling wisely. 

And with that, a bright flash blinded everyone in the room, and Serizawa softly floated back on to the mud floor like an angel descending from the heavens above. Despite having around a 5-minute explanation of what was going to happen, Shrek and Reigen still both gasped when they saw him. 

His shirt was gone, vamoosh. A striped blue shirt tied around his neck, swaggy white pants, that old person smell wafting off of him… both Shrek and Reigen were in awe, seeing his magical form being that of the Old Spice Man. 

“Reigen.” He breathed out, a halo glow around him, “Shrek.” He held out a hand to the both of them. “You both are sexy in your own right. But together… together, we could perhaps live up to the image of the Old Spice man. Or close at least. Maybe.”

Serizawa held out both his hands. They were still sweaty. Shrek and Reigen slowly, respectively put a hand in one of them. They were now forming a sort of poly-circle. 

“I have two hands,” declared Serizawa. 

“You do,” sniffled Reigen, overwhelmed with the emotion of the moment. 

“We’re doing this.”

“Aye.”

Tears started falling down all their faces, the salty droplets mixing with the mud below their feet. Maybe it was joy. Maybe it was the onions. But one thing was clear in everyone’s murky, Old-Spice warped vision: their swampy, layered love knew no bounds between the three of them. It was…effervescent. 

**THE END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Lulatic's Note: gay right!
> 
> Crow's Note: *Jeb Bush voice*: Please clap.


End file.
